


sea and shadows

by lynne_monstr



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Cute Tentacles, First Meetings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Tentacles, Tentacletober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-01 15:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20817284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: Alec hopes that the secluded cottage by the sea will help jump start his artistic inspiration. His sketchbook has been nothing but empty pages for too long. What he isn't expecting is to come from his daily walk to find an intruder in his kitchen.He should run. (He's an artist not a fighter.)He doesn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [sh_ficletinstruments](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sh_ficletinstruments) collection. 

> Prompt: Cottage

Alec tosses his sketchbook onto a side table as he enters the cottage, not bothering to close the door behind him. It’s not like there’s anything to worry about. This far from civilization, his only company is the mountains and salty sea air. Even his inspiration is long gone. Plucking the pencil from his ear, he spins it between his fingers. The point is perfectly sharp, a testament to his book’s empty pages.

A low thud and a muffled curse jolt him from his thoughts.

Someone is in the cottage.

Heart racing, he tiptoes towards the noise, ignoring Isabelle’s voice in his head that the pretty girl in horror movies is supposed to run out the door, not up the stairs. Alec is hardly a fictional sorority girl but he recognizes a poor decision when he’s in the middle of making one.

He turns the corner, pencil extended like a weapon. And freezes.

There’s a nearly naked man ransacking his kitchen. A nearly naked, _beautiful_ man. Strands of gleaming shells dangle over his bare chest and around his hips, accenting the play of muscles across his golden skin. Beneath the adornments, Alec frowns at the host of fresh scrapes and scratches on display.

More bizarrely, the man is dripping wet. Where did he come from? A shift of broad shoulders reveals a dark, writhing shadow at the man’s back and Alec stops thinking about practicalities and starts thinking about _tentacles_.

(The part of his brain not having a meltdown points out the man must’ve come from the sea.)

It’s impossible but the tentacles are real, jet black and gleaming. Except something’s not right. They’re snarled up, twisted and tangled in a way that looks painful. He’s caught, Alec realizes. Ensnared in some kind of fishing net.

Which is when the man catches sight of Alec. He startles, tentacles flaring up in defense. Just as quickly, he flinches in pain and the tentacles recoil.

Alec steps forward. “You’re—”

“A sea-demon, yes.” The stranger’s eyes flash a defiant gold, hands fisted like he’s ready to fight.

“I was going to say, ‘_hurt_.’” Alec lowers the pencil. It wasn’t much of a weapon and, demon or not, the man hasn’t actually done anything threatening. “Scissors are in the far left drawer.”

Gold fades into a warm, wide-eyed brown. “Thank you.”

Silence descends as the man cuts himself free. “Do you have a name?” Alec asks, then kicks himself. “Of course you do, that was rude. Um…I’m Alec.”

The man’s lips twitch, like he’s trying to hide a laugh. “Magnus,” he offers. The scissors continue their work and soon enough, a tentacle pokes its way free and wriggles happily in the air.

Alec smiles, his heart beating faster when Magnus smiles back. It hits him like a blow, the desire to capture every crinkle of Magnus’ skin, every dip of muscle, every drop of water clinging to his hair.

For the first time in months, Alec’s fingers itch with the urge to create.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks up where the previous chapter leaves off. The word count of ficlet instruments mean I couldn't do everything with this idea that I wanted to, so here's the expanded scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Tentacletober Day 3: Injured Tentacles

Alec hangs back a respectful distance while his unexpected guest cuts himself free from the fishing net.

The last thing he expected coming home from his daily walk was to find an injured sea-demon invading his kitchen. Alec’s heard the stories, of course. Every child has. Long ago the sea-demons demanded sacrifices to sate their demonic appetites, murdering their victims and feeding off the magic of their life force until humanity fought back.

The man in front of him, with his easy smile and his bruised skin and his tentacles caught in a tangle of fisherman’s knots, doesn’t look like a monster. He looks like a man.

“I thought sea-demons were extinct,” Alec finally dares to ask.

“_Extinct_. Is that what they call it nowadays?” A muscle in Magnus’ jaw clenches tight before he shakes it off in favor of squinting at a patch of netting near his shoulder. The blade of the scissors easily finds its mark and a patch of net falls to the floor. Another tentacle pops loose, wiggling skyward as if celebrating its freedom.

Magnus’ eyes are golden slits when he looks back at Alec. “Extinct is a funny word for slaughter, if you ask me.”

The worn, broken-in leather of Alec's boots suddenly seems a lot more interesting. Alec’s never put much thought into questioning the old stories. Everyone knows them. Water nymphs are harmless unless provoked, selkies aren’t to be kept as pets, sea-demons will eat your soul if you let them.

Granted, no one has ever said anything about the tentacles so perhaps the stories aren’t as accurate as everyone likes to believe.

A heavy silence settles between them and Alec assumes that’s the last of the conversation. There’s only the whistle of sea air through the open front door and the occasional snip of the scissors to mark the passing of time.

Until Magnus looks up. “Children or virgins?”

“Excuse me?” Alec asks.

“These stories about my people? Were we eating children or virgins? I’ve heard it both ways.”

“Babies,” Alec admits.

Magnus shakes his head but says nothing, and Alec is left with the uncomfortable feeling he’s disappointed this strange man.

Again he’s surprised when Magnus breaks the silence. “I won’t deny that some of the tales are true. We’re a lot like humans in that some of us good and some of us…aren’t.”

Even from across the kitchen, Alec can’t miss how the muscles of his shoulders draw up tight. A bad memory, perhaps. Whether he’s remembering an experience or a particular person, Alec doesn’t know and doesn’t have the right to ask. Whatever it is, it’s bad enough for its presence to linger in the fibers of muscles and sinew beneath Magnus’ skin.

It’s gone just as quickly.

The minutes tick by and more and more slick black tentacles slither free from their confines. Some of them wave around in the air. Others settle themselves on Magnus’ shoulders or wrap around his waist, adorning him alongside the strands of shells he wears around his neck and his hips. Alec might be just a little bit jealous that they get to traverse the dips and valleys of hard muscle so clearly on display.

A pained hiss jolts him back to the present.

Magnus is twisted almost completely around, eyes narrowed and muscles straining as he tries to reach a spot on his back. His eyes close and he exhales, deepening the stretch. He’s practically quivering with the effort but it still isn’t enough. His bare chest heaves and he tries again, and Alec doesn’t need to be a yoga instructor like his asshole ex-boyfriend Todd to know this is a losing battle.

He’s in the middle of contemplating the futile beauty of the action, the strokes and lines it would take to best capture Magnus' struggle on paper, when he realizes he’s being every bit the raging dick his siblings affectionately tease him about. He bites his lip, debating if it’s his place to offer aid.

A pained grunt reaches his ears and makes his decision for him.

Several long strides bring him across the kitchen, careful to keep his hands visible and his motions non-threatening. Not that he’s much of a match for a sea-demon, even a weakened one. Then again, some of the stories say that the best way to bind a sea-demon’s power is to bind their tentacles. If that’s true—if Magnus is merely pretending to be friendly until his tentacles are freed—Alec is about to sign his own death warrant.

He thinks of how Magnus expected a fight when Alec first stumbled upon him, and the surprise scrawled across his face when Alec offered the scissors, like he was unused to being treated with basic kindness.

Alec gambles with his life and he does it with a soft smile. “Need a hand?” he asks.

Magnus blinks. His eyes flit from Alec’s face to his outstretched palm, like a cornered animal circling a baited trap.

Alec’s stomach clenches. The man in front of him is a lot of things but he’s no animal. No monster. “You’re going to cut yourself if you keep that up and I don’t really feel like cleaning blood off my kitchen floor.”

“I supposed I’ve encroached enough on your hospitality without forcing that particular horror upon you.” Magnus’ knuckles are white around the rubber grip of the scissors but he slowly places them in Alec’s hand and lets go. “Be gentle.” His tone is laden with innuendo but there’s a tightness at the corner of his eyes.

Alec gives him a reassuring smile and angles himself so he can see the tentacles on Magnus’ back. This close, the jet black of their coloring is shot through with bands of sickly gray. He runs his finger over one of the gray veins. Magnus flinches and Alec pulls away like he’s been scalded.

It’s an injury, he realizes. The places where the fishing net dug too deeply into him.

There are so many gray spots. Alec pushes away the wave of nausea and concentrates on his task. He aches to run comforting hands over the mass of tentacles, but he already has proof that does more harm than good. Instead, he turns his eyes towards the ugly tangle of netting and tentacles that spans the length of Magnus’ shoulder blades.

“Tell me if it hurts,” is his only warning before he cuts away the first piece of net.

Magnus winces but doesn’t say a word as Alec cuts the last parts of him free. The tentacles that can, curl tightly inwards around his body. It drives Alec on, wanting to be done with this as soon as possible. As he finally snips away the last piece of straggling pieces, Magnus heaves a relieved breath and slumps.

The moment the last tentacle breaks free, a blue wave what can only be magic washes over Magnus’ skin. When it passes, the tentacles are once again a smooth, unblemished black. Alec is reminded of the old wives’ tales about how to bind a sea-demon’s magic, and wonders if Magnus realizes how much he just gave away.

Before he can think too much on this new information, Magnus staggers. Only years of catching runaway pencils and paintbrushes allows Alec to catch him before he hits the ground.

“Oops,” Magnus mumbles. “Forgot how much that takes out of me.”

Alec smooths a hand down his arm, barely aware he’s doing it. The slightest of tremors rock Magnus’ otherwise solid body, the beginnings of exhaustion. Alec’s debating whether to remove his hand when Magnus practically melts backwards against him.

A tentacle curls around Alec’s waist, ending any thoughts of putting space between them.

“That’s twice I owe you my thanks now.”

“I’m not counting.” Alec shifts his hold so he can walk Magnus towards the adjoining living room and onto the couch. It’s an old thing, the fabric worn and faded, but it’s deceptively comfortable and he’ll fight anyone who argues differently. “Though you should probably make it three, since I’m about to offer you the spare bedroom while you regain your strength.”

“Three it is,” Magnus agrees. His eyes are practically closed as Alec settles him onto the couch.

There’s a throw blanket draped over the side chair. It’s gets draped over Magnus, the edges carefully tucked around his shoulders. Alec would prefer to get him a towel since he’s still wet from dragging himself in from the water, but the blanket is good enough for now.

Straightening, Alec admires his handiwork. His eyes catch on his pencil where he left it sitting on the kitchen counter and he goes over to retrieve it. And stops as a pair of tentacles wind around his wrists, tugging him backwards.

Alec lets himself be tugged all the way back to the couch.

Back to Magnus.

His sketchbook will still be there when he gets up. For now, he has a sea-demon pressed against his side, his damp hair resting against Alec’s shoulder as he sleeps.


End file.
